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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25232182">Deserving</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt Spock (Star Trek), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Let's never talk about this fic again, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Please read with caution, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Hatred, Spock (Star Trek)-centric, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This is extremely dark, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:01:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,579</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25232182</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>His rooms were cold. He had made them cold, frigid to a Human and unbearable for a Vulcan, because he deserved it. He deserved to be punished for what he had done, in any way he could be. He deserved to be shunned and hated by those he had betrayed, he deserved the ache and pain it caused, deserved to shiver miserably through the nightmares of forcing himself onto Leon- McCoy. He didn’t have the right to his first name.<br/>He deserved the bruises he dug into his wrists, arms, thighs, where they couldn’t be seen by anyone. He deserved the pain, for what he’d done. </p><p>HEAVY CAUTION ADVISED. PLEASE MIND THE TAGS</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/647422">The Hand We're Dealt</a> by callandra.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just a warning, I've tagged as major character death for now but that wasn't my intention with the ambiguous ending. On the off chance I continue this, that tag will change. </p><p>This is a fix it to a fic I was reading with a similar premise, where Spock was drugged into Pon Farr and raped McCoy with no recollection of having done so, cementing a bond between them. In that fic, there was an acknowledgement that Spock was also a victim but an overall ignorance of the trauma he also suffered, and Spock accepted things far too easily in my opinion. That fic focused on McCoy's recovery, so this fic is focusing on Spock's lack-thereof. Once again, please please PLEASE read this with caution. This is incredibly heavy, with an attempted suicide and heavy suicidal ideation.</p><p>I've linked the work that inspired this but it is also very very heavy, and quite frustrating. I didn't get very far into it before giving up and coming to write this. Please, again, read that at your own caution.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Spock woke up to a punch in the nose and blood dripping down his teeth, sharp, desperate sobbing and the sound of the sonic echoing ominously around his room. Wearied eyes opened to see Jim above him, hands curled just so around his neck, like he would kill him at any moment if he so decided, teeth bared and eyes fiery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you,” he hissed, and Spock knew the feared confusion showed on his face. He took stock of his body -- sore, bloody, overworked like he had decided to wrestle a Klingon -- and a moan escaped him unbidden, shaking his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain,” he said, “I don’t understand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The hell you fucking don’t!” was Jim’s snarled response, and those fingers curled into his veins, thumbs pressing into his trachea like he would crush it so easily and be done with him. Panic filled him as his air ceased, and he brought up sore, bloodied hands to grip Jim’s wrists and force his hands off, still stronger even in his weakened state. His breath left him again when he took in the red blood mixed with green on his knuckles, swallowing thickly around the copper taste in his mouth?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jim?” he asked, because he was confused and scared and his voice was shaking, and he could feel Jim’s vile hatred for him through his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t, Jim,” he heard weakly from the direction of the restroom, but was terrified to turn his head. “He doesn’t remember. He was drugged.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He raped you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock pushed Jim away from him, not able to stand his skin any more, not able to comprehend the sticky feeling of his own skin and the heat of his rooms past his own shaking horror. He curled into himself, wanting to hide, wanting to disappear from existence or wake up to find he was having a terrible nightmare, one hand finding its way into his hair and the other reaching down smear across the stickiness on his thighs, a silent sob escaping him at the feeling. He looked over to where Leonard was standing in the bathroom doorway, wrapped up tightly in Jim’s sweats, eyes still wet with tears and face bruised and cut, a broken shrug bowing his form. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. But he’s a victim too.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leonard wasn’t handling it well. Spock didn’t expect him to handle it well, didn’t expect anyone to handle it well, what he’d been through. Jim was, almost, handling it worse, unable to stand being in the same room as him and coldly antagonistic when he was. He knew Jim knew he didn’t mean it, that he had no control. He knew it was the only reason he wasn’t in the brig, waiting for trial. He knew just as well that Jim wished he could throw him there with the woman who had drugged him anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bond ached. He sobbed with it as it made his head pound. Leonard didn’t want it, and Spock didn’t want it any more than the Human did. Not in this way, never in this way. It throbbed, wanted him to stop blocking, to recognize and fulfill it, to comfort his mate. He did not. Leonard wasn’t his, didn’t want to be his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had lost everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His rooms were cold. He had made them cold, frigid to a Human and unbearable for a Vulcan, because he deserved it. He deserved to be punished for what he had done, in any way he could be. He deserved to be shunned and hated by those he had betrayed, he deserved the ache and pain it caused, deserved to shiver miserably through the nightmares of forcing himself onto Leon- McCoy. He didn’t have the right to his first name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He deserved the bruises he dug into his wrists, arms, thighs, where they couldn’t be seen by anyone. He deserved the pain, for what he’d done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was worse when McCoy tried to be kind. Tried to push back his own instinctual flinches to help stop Spock’s flinches. Tried to remind him that he was also a victim. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could a victim have rent those bruises across McCoy’s skin? How could he have violated his mind so deeply? How could a victim have caused his friends to cry, to burn with anger, to want him to die?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he deserved to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He kept thinking about the shuttles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be so easy to take one. He was the commander, no one would question it. It would be so easy to take one and crash it into the nearest uninhabited rock, and end his frie- his crew’s suffering forever. End McCoy’s. End his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be so easy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t been able to meditate himself to that endless sleep. He hadn’t been able to meditate at all. Every inch of him felt raw, inside and out, his katra shorn by what he had done. He had thought he was not capable of such things. He had been wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he thought about the shuttles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the hyposprays in Medbay, whenever McCoy was off duty, and the various dangerous chemicals kept in the labs whenever he was in them alone. Sulu’s sword, a phaser rifle from the stores, the ceremonial dagger on his wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dug his fingers into his arms until his bones creaked. He couldn’t break them, he didn’t want to have to go to Medbay, infringe upon McCoy’s safety. But the bruises spread, harsh and black, aching more and more every time he dug in his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Kirk had said to him, still unable to look him in the eye, fists still clenched even though his body language was open. “I know you were a victim too. It’s just taking me some time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand,” he had said through numb lips, because he didn’t deserve an apology, didn’t deserve anything. Didn’t deserve Kirk’s time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could not stand McCoy’s contentment through the bond, couldn’t focus enough to close it. His whole body was vibrating. He hadn’t left his quarters since he’d been relieved of duty. Since the trial of that terrible woman, who blamed everything on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was right. It was his fault. She gave him the drug, but he wrought the destruction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>McCoy was happy. Settled. It tried to calm the frayed edges of his mind from the bond he no longer had the strength to block. He did not deserve the comfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued to fiddle with the panel, just enough, just enough to make it look like an accident. The sonics vibrated at a higher pitch, grating to his ears, he welcomed the ache in his head that accompanied it. The blood that trickled onto his lip, the hollow sound filling his ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His legs gave out without permission, body aching like his mind, matching. He deserved it, deserved this pain. Deserved that it last, but it wouldn’t, not long. His eyes slipped closed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated that Kirk would have to find him like this and be disgusted by him once more, but there was no way to help it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound stopped before his consciousness fled and he cried out in frustration, unable to open his eyes, reaching blindly for the panel that controlled the sonics and stopped by a warm body covered in cloth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Kirk was saying, gathering him close to his body. “I’m so sorry.” He could barely hear it over the ocean in his ears, a sound he had missed when they had left from San Francisco. “You’re a victim too, Spock, I’m sorry-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head felt light, like it was somewhere up near the ceiling while the rest of him was grounded. He wanted to float up through the ceiling and into the stars where his katra would be lost and no one would scorn him for his atrocities. The feeling of Kirk’s hands slipped away from him as he lost the tether to his body, slowly, the sharpness of McCoy’s concern echoing through his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t deserve it. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jim was crying, rocking Spock back and forth in his arms and pleading desperately with him, and it was only Spock’s hand falling to the tiles limply with a slap that spurred Leonard into action. </p><p>He could deal with his trauma later. Right now, he had a patient who needed him, and some friends to cuss out. </p><p>He couldn’t help but think that Spock didn’t deserve any of this.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You guys have been so sweet in the comments of this fic. I was really really nervous posting this so all your support has been such a beautiful surprise for me. </p><p>This chapter is focusing on McCoy, although it doesn't go very heavily into detail. I just couldn't leave him out when he's a major player too. I wanted to explain some of the reasoning. I hope this chapter doesn't come off as if McCoy wasn't a victim or he didn't struggle, because that completely was not what I was going for, but Bones has by this point put a lot of effort into getting better and there are some modern therapies that I imagine are much more developed in the future that can help speed things like brain training. </p><p>I'm thinking one more chapter to wrap up Spock getting help and getting better but I guess we'll see how it goes! Not sure when I'll get the last chapter out but I'll try to have it soon guys. Thank you again for all the love owo it's been so sweet</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Leonard was pleased, content, even. Sitting in the warmth of the rec room with Jim, listening to Nyota serenade Christine softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been hard. God knew it had been hard, the past few months. It had been work, and sweat and tears and nightmares. It had been therapy and medications and neurofeedback training. But it had been worth it for this contentment. He deserved this. He needed to get better, for himself, for Jim, for his friends. Especially for Spock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard having to remind himself every time he saw him that Spock wasn’t the man who had done that to him. It was easier when he realized Spock flinched away from him too, wouldn’t meet his eye, actively tried to make himself less threatening or altogether leave the room whenever they were nearby. It was far easier as bags grew under Spock’s eyes to match his own, as he noticed the way Spock’s hands shook whenever someone looked his way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His contentment was shot through with a spike of habitual anger. It had been a month since that bitch that caused it all, the one who had drugged Spock, had been tried and convicted, a month now since Spock had been relieved of duty indefinitely pending internal investigation as to whether he should be discharged or not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leonard had fought hard to get Spock to remain on the ship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he questioned that decision. There was no one to support Spock on Vulcan, no one in San Francisco to help him heal. But it seemed, now, that he had made the wrong judgement in thinking he would receive any more assistance on board. Before, he had been too entangled in his own efforts to heal, rightfully, to focus on Spock. Now, his contentment was followed by a thread of unease as he had taken in the behaviors of his friends in the past weeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jim,” he said softly, too quiet to disturb the jovial atmosphere of the room, “I need you to forgive Spock. Every time you get that look on his face whenever he’s mentioned it... it makes it hard for me. Brings back things I’d rather not remember.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim’s fists tightened at his sides and he sighed, deflating. “I know. I’m sorry, and I’m trying. But it’s so hard. Every time I think of him, I see what he did to you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t do it. The man who did those things wasn’t Spock, even if he wore Spock’s face. I know, because Spock was fighting the whole time to stop. And honestly, I’m damn glad he doesn’t remember. It’d probably tear him up inside. But I’ve come to terms with it. Modern therapy does wonders.” He gave a wry smile that Jim didn’t return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He raped you, Bones,” Jim whispered, voice broken and eyes wide. “I can’t just forget that.” Leonard sighed, giving a shrug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jim, have you thought about it from his perspective? Have you thought about the fact that he was unwilling too?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rape doesn’t work like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does this time. We were both in the wrong place at the wrong time, neither of us consented, and we both suffered for it. And honestly, I’ve been damn astounded by you and everyone’s behaviour towards him since then.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I worked this hard because I don’t want to lose Spock as a friend or an officer, Jim. And because I can’t do my job if I’m flinching at every damn Vulcan. But Spock won’t even step foot in Sickbay, so I know he hasn’t been... Well. I just think it’s unfair that you don’t realize how traumatic what he went through was, too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim rubbed his face wearily. “I know. I’ve been worried about him. But I just, I feel sick, when I think of what I did, and then what he did-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jim,” he said softly, laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I don’t say this lightly. Maybe you need some help too. This was traumatic for all of us.” Jim took a shaky breath, staring down at his clenched first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you’re right,” he said finally, barely audible over Uhura’s voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m always right,” Leonard teased, nudging him with his shoulder. “And I think the first step is going and recognizing that Spock is still the same man he was before that day. What happened to us didn’t change us.” Jim shut his eyes and nodded. “I’ll go with you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes shot open again, wide and clear with concern. “Bones...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know what I’m doing, Jim. I need to be there again, see it as it is -- it’s just a room. It can’t hurt me, and Spock definitely won’t. The problem is going to be convincing him that. Stubborn Vulcan.” Jim snorted, but the concern didn’t fully leave his eyes. Leonard sighed. “I know it seems fast, but I’m doing really well with everything. I’ve talked with my therapist about it, and she agrees. Trust me, Jim, to know my own limits.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right,” Jim said on a shaky sigh. “I’m sorry.” Leonard stood, stretching his back until it creaked. “What, are we going now?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No time like the present.” Leonard flashed him a shit-eating grin and Jim burst into startled laughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah I guess you’re right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The walk to Spock’s rooms was silent. Leonard would’ve been lying if he said he held no trepidation, but it was nothing like the vibrating nervousness of Jim’s frame. They had almost reached the door when the wall-comm whistled loudly. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dr McCoy, there’s been a malfunction with one of the sonic showers, medical assistance likely necessary. Engineers are up to stabilize the situation now. Please report to Commander Spock and Captain Kirk’s rooms.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He and Jim shared a glance and were running the last few steps, through Jim’s rooms, Jim’s hands shaking frantically as he keyed in the override for the bathroom door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was Spock, collapsed on the floor of the shower, eyes closed and skin a lifeless white, blood streaming down his chin and neck from his nose and ears. In that instant, any other ties Leonard still had in his mind between what happened to him and Spock were shattered. Spock was this creature sprawled lifelessly, heavy black bruises in the shapes of his own hands marring nearly every inch of skin, hair greasy and ribs visible. He was not the man who had forced and brutalized Leonard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim was slapping the sonic off, the high pitched whining stopping abruptly, and gathering Spock into his arms. If there was any question as to what sort of “malfunction” this was, it ended when Spock let out an aggrieved cry and reached for the sonic controls, stopped by Jim’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jim. how? When did it get this bad? Jim?” He was asking through numb lips, and although he still struggled to reconcile what had happened with his vice of Spock as his friend, he knew that this would be another terribly horrifying night that he would wish he could forget. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim was crying, rocking Spock back and forth in his arms and pleading desperately with him, and it was only Spock’s hand falling to the tiles limply with a slap that spurred Leonard into action. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could deal with his trauma later. Right now, he had a patient who needed him, and some friends to cuss out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help but think that Spock didn’t deserve any of this. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so uh. i guess let me know if you want his recovery.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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